


The Great Pretender

by Catatonica



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Jacob really has issues, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Reader has a cute animal friend tho, Reader is an ancient deity, Reader needs lotta patience, Slow Burn, Timeline: Before FC5, goddess!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catatonica/pseuds/Catatonica
Summary: The cult settles down in Hope Country. They build their future while Jacob makes it his mission to explore and map the northeast Whitetail Mountains. Fate and chance work hand in hand and he meets a huntress who saves his life.
Relationships: Jacob Seed/Reader
Kudos: 17





	1. Adrift in a world of my own

A rock, a brittle stone and everything blurred in a sea of darkness and pain. The smell of pine resin, so sweet and pungent. The shrill screech of an eagle, far above him in the peaks of the Whitetail Mountains.  
Who would have thought Jacob's first tour to scout the mountains would end like this? A trained soldier defeated by a fucking pebble. Did God want him to die? Did the universe wanted it all to end here? In any case, a lovely welcome it was not.  
Jacob took a deep breath, but his lungs burned and the breath only ended in a coughing fit. He felt something in his chest, something that didn't belong there. It was stuck deep between his ribs, probably a reason why he could hardly breathe. Above him loomed the crown of a huge pine tree - had he fallen into it? Probably. The foreign body in his torso had to be a piece of wood then.  
"Fuck.", he cursed softly and tried to move, but his left leg only chased a screeching pain through his body. He didn't dare open his eyes and tried to keep his own pulse steady. But even an Airborne soldier could not keep the heartbeat steady with only positive thoughts once the adrenaline surged through the body. The hormones ebbed more with every minute he lay there and would soon dry up completely. And then? Then the pain would come, the trembling in his muscles would only get more extreme, and by evening he would have bled out or suffocated.  
"Shit.", Jacob cursed again and in the distance he could hear the yelp of an animal. Was it a wolf? Maybe just a wolverine, but in any case bad news for him. He would end up as dinner. Thank you universe, he thought angrily. Thanks for nothing.

The yelp of an animal startled you, was it full of excitement and hunger. You lifted your chin slightly, soaking up the smell of the forest around you. The lush green of the ferns, the needles of the trees around you, and that earthy, deep smell of the mountains - and something else. What smelled so much like blood, like death and decay? It was not a dying animal, that much was clear. This creature was dying, certainly it would be dead by the end of the night. But it smelled of something evil, a shadow. A broken, shattered soul. It had to be human.  
Behind your mask, you turned the corners of your mouth down. You had been searching for a place that would take care of your bones for ages, and then this. What did people want in your mountains? Wasn't the valley where they grew their crops enough for them? It had taken decades to find the perfect place and then this. Did they really have to spread everywhere!  
You slid silently down from the hill where you had strung your bowstring. You pulled the weapon over your head and one shoulder, so that the bow hugged your upper body. It was a feeling of security, a feeling you had felt at home for a thousand years. What would you do without your faithful bow, a weapon that never missed its target. The end of many lives, the beginning of many stories. Incredible tales told by parents to children around the campfires and home stoves. Good times, bygone times. There were wonderful stories of your exploits, hunting the meanest ghosts and demons. Even a few love stories lay somewhere in between.  
A snake lay in the shadow of a rock, hissing in fright as you came up silently beside it. A quick glance through the vision slits of your mask and the animal calmed down, recognizing who and what you were. The snake curled up again, hidden deep in the shadow of the ledge.  
Good girl, you thought with grim satisfaction, testing the air again. You would protect your animals with all your might, at least as far as you could. Your connection to nature and the universe told you, however, that it was a futile labor of love. Something would happen, something very terrible - and soon. Four, maybe five years until everything here would come to an abrupt end. The earth will burn, the fire will be hotter than hell, and the air alone will decompose life. So much for this being your final resting place. These mountains needed you, this land and its animal inhabitants depended on you. You had to save what could be saved.  
And to make matters worse, this injured man played a leading role. His fate was not yet over here, his deeds would not end here. Otherwise, he would have been dead long ago. He was certainly not a good man, but it was not your task to judge. You were not a judge, an executioner or anything else. You were a hunter, a protector of the life around you.  
A goddess of the hunt, ancient and almost forgotten. Your followers dead, your cult already extinct. Your quest for death had stretched to the far arms of Montana, and yet you had never received the final, redeeming kiss. Day after day you roamed the woods, searching for the end of your being, but meeting only humans and their strange customs. They had evolved their weapons, the cars roared as they thundered along the roads. You didn't have many objections to the technology, no, it was practical. But the fact that they shot the animals with their automatic rifles, that bothered you a lot. Where was the tradition, the devotion? Your heart bled at the sight of the desecrated creatures, hung up for amusement.  
The screech of an eagle snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to the sky. A beautiful, huge predator was circling not far from its nest on the mountain, its eyes fixed on the vultures, which seemed to have chosen a target. You had to go there, the vultures would show you where the dying creature breathed its last.

Completely silently you walked through the isolated small bushes, the dry fern and over the bed of pine needles. The vultures noticed you immediately, hopped aside and made room for you. The only faint aura of your divinity made them caw timidly, but you felt only love for these animals. They too had to eat, who were you to judge them for their ways? A bird hopped closer to you and tugged at the leather of your pants, a request for attention and care on your part.  
"Later." you murmured, stroking the animal's head briefly and lovingly as you passed. Your eyes were fixed on the man lying under the pine tree with severe injuries. Great, he had killed two healthy branches with his fall. Why did he have to walk around on this dangerous hill? Hadn't he noticed the bones of the animals, all scattered around the base of this mound? He was not the first creature to fall.  
He seemed only half conscious, slipping and then catching himself. Your eyes darted over his chest - a large piece of the branch was stuck between his ribs. It had injured his lung, the way he was gasping. A fatal wound if not treated. In his left leg, on the other hand, a smaller branch was stuck, had pierced through the muscle when he fell. That certainly hurt. The blood vessels didn't seem too badly injured, but the wound was a high risk for infection.  
Slowly you stepped closer, each step as quiet as a mouse in the undergrowth. Did he realize you were there? Or was he already too far away, driven away by the pain and blind to his senses?  
The man coughed and suddenly two blue eyes were on you. He stared at you, his gaze blurred by blood loss and racking pain. And yet, his gaze caught your form and he stared at you with an intense emphasis that made you give an interested, low growl. You eyed him with growing curiosity. His skin showed many scars, his muscles were extremely trained and you smiled at the red of his hair. This color reminded you of your home, of the origin of your being and the people there. His roots seemed to come from there. What a beautiful coincidence.  
He groaned and in the twitching of his fingers you saw that he wanted to reach out to you. Your figure, visible to humans, was that of a woman, young and strong, cloaked in leather clothing with a white mask. The natives of this land feared you, they had their own gods and you respected that. And yet your figure still raised uneasiness in the people, one more reason to stay away from them. People fear what they do not know.  
And yet, this man reached out to you, weak and with the last of his strength. Of course, he did it because he didn't want to die. He wanted to live, he wanted to rule and kill. But who were you to judge the people.  
Just in time you reached out, wrapped in dark leather gloves, to catch his hand. He lost consciousness and you decided to help him. The universe gave you no choice but to accept this task. It showed you things, visions of what was to come. Visions of him.

_An explosion. Fire. Screams. The air so hot it hurt to breathe._

_Only you._

You knew instantly who he was - a man who would make a sacrifice. Important in a sense all his own, a branch that was not yours. You had to help him.  
You let out a loud whistle and listened to the rustling of pine needles in the heavy wind. It would rain soon, you thought. A boon to the soil. Then the blood of this man would be washed away and could not poison the earth any further.  
Finally, from the undergrowth came a loud crack, a crash of branches, and the black nose of a bear appeared among the ferns. You clicked your tongue in invitation, whereupon the black bear plodded to you and snorted. Expectantly, he leaned his huge head forward and you stroked the animal, scratching the soft fur behind his ears. Satisfied, the bear grunted and dropped onto his belly, his muscular legs stretched out by him.  
"You have to help me." you said to the bear, grabbing the man's jacket to pull him up off the ground. "You have to carry him."  
An angry growl escaped the bear, but he didn't dare resist you. So you pulled the man to the animal with a powerful jerk, but wondered briefly at the man's enormous weight. He must have been made of pure muscle, as heavy as he was. Granted, he was really big, too. A warrior. A soldier. And soon to be a hunter.  
"Now don't look at me like that." The bear's dark beady eyes eyed you reproachfully and you knew exactly what the animal was trying to tell you. Why were you helping a man who brought so much suffering to these woods?  
"It's my job," you replied to this silent reproach. "Whether I like it or not."


	2. I seem to be what I'm not

"Careful, careful-" With a dull thud, the black bear threw Jacob off of him and the man hit the floor of your home unchecked. You frowned behind your mask - that would have hurt for sure if he wasn't unconscious already.  
"Come on, he's hurt!" you gently scolded the bear, who snorted and nudged you with his furry rear end as you walked, causing you to stumble slightly to the side. He was right, you thought to yourself, looking at the bleeding pile of human in front of you.  
Beyond the Whitetail Mountains lay a small, isolated valley - your home for nearly 100 years. A river of crystal clear water fed you and the animals and you had made a shelter for yourself many years ago. The natives of this land lived in white tents, something you liked very much. An idea that you had made your own. Your tent was huge, woven from thick linen and now overgrown with all kinds of vines. Small white flowers covered the vines and a sweet fragrance surrounded your camp, adorned by green grasses on the ground and many more kinds of flowers. Out of the plants stood out the skulls and antlers, your trophies of the most successful hunts. It was the camp of a real huntress and was supposed to be the resting place of a god - but the universe probably had other things in mind for you.  
Two little skunks came out of the bushes and squealed excitedly near you, stroking your legs and demanding to be petted. Slowly you began to suspect that you should not have coddled the animals so much. They constantly came to you, begging for food and attention like pets. But maybe that was just your fate as part of nature.  
"Let's take a closer look at our guest," you murmured to the two mammals and turned the man onto his back. A groan escaped his throat, so he was still alive. So far, so good.  
You took off the mask and gloves, placed them next to you - where they were immediately stolen by your two helpers and dragged out of the tent. Loud squeals let you know that your gloves were needed for play, but you cared precious little at that moment.  
"J. Seed." you quietly read the patch on the army jacket. Through your vision you knew of the Seeds, but was he Jacob or Joseph? Or John? How confusing that their name started the same. Your name was so old and already almost completely forgotten. Only fleetingly did you remember it.  
Curious, you reached for the dog tags on his neck, a sign of the country's military.  
"Jacob." you murmured, giving a satisfied growl. His name was Jacob. He was the oldest, a soldier with much experience. It was clear that he was struggling with the shadows. Something had attached itself to him, corroding him from within and eating away at his spirit. You had often perceived this in warriors - the guilt of killing. It ate them all up, one by one. In the end, they all ran toward death laughing, grateful for release from their suffering. Jacob, too, would end that way.  
Carefully you pushed the jacket aside, careful not to touch the piece of branch in his chest. It wasn't sitting in too deep, you dared to remove the piece. Either way, he needed a tourniquet on the wound. Time would tell if the lung was damaged or if it was just air in the chest. You put some bandages next to you on a small table, built from an old box. For such cases you always had bandages there - even if no human being had ever entered this valley before. You have been alone with yourself and your thoughts for a long time.  
Will he wake up?, you asked yourself. It will hurt. The pain might wake him up.  
With great care, you cut open his black shirt with the knife and pushed the fabric aside. Calmly, you placed one hand on his chest, the other gripping the piece of wood. For a second you admired the scars on his torso, the marks of many battles, won and lost. It would be a pleasure to hear his stories.  
Briskly, yet very carefully, you pulled the piece of wood from his flesh and the moment it was out, he regained consciousness.  
A strangled cry escaped him, part pain and part amazement. Immediately you pushed him back to the ground, back into the lush green grass in your tent. Blue eyes darted left and right for a moment, finally finding you. He was confused and you saw the panic in his eyes. He didn't know where he was or what you were doing, so who could blame him for being scared?  
"Stay calm." you said softly, as kindly as possible. The blue eyes narrowed under suspicion, but something else glittered in them. Was it honest surprise?

From black to red, from darkness he was jolted into pain. Jacob pulled up, instantly feeling the stabbing pain in his chest and he clenched his jaws to suppress more sounds of pain. A warm hand on his chest pushed him to the ground, he smelled the grass he was lying in and he looked around for a moment.  
Where the hell was he? Was that a tent?  
First blurry, then the outlines became sharper and he saw you. He saw your face framed by wild hair, a warm look and for a split second he thought your eyes were a golden color - that was probably a hallucination from the pain in his body. As quickly as the glint of gold in your gaze had come, it disappeared.  
"Stay calm." Your voice was warm and sweet as honey, caressing his completely overstimulated senses. Jacob let himself be lulled by it for a moment, sinking into the sound of your words, sensing that there was more to it than just your purring voice dripping with honey. But as quickly as that sense had come, it was gone immediately, displaced by pain.  
"Fuck-," it escaped him faintly and he took a breath, coughing and contenting himself with slow, steady breaths. "Shit."  
Warm hands examined the wound briefly, then pressed gauze bandages on it to stop the bleeding.  
"Not fatal." he heard you murmur, and he closed his eyes, focused on not throwing up. He was sick to his stomach, his chest felt like a grizzly was sitting on it and his leg hurt like hell. On top of that, you had dragged him somewhere, and where the hell was his fucking radio?!  
"Jacob." You pronounced his name like you'd said it a hundred times before, like you'd known him since childhood. It made him uncomfortable, something about you was wrong. As if you were wearing a mask that looked like a human face. You were not what you pretended to be. He blamed this strange feeling on stress, but the dull feeling in his stomach remained. "It's going to hurt."  
"What do you mea-" His question was abruptly interrupted as you pulled the branch out of his leg and pressed gauze bandages on the wound as well. He groaned, gritted his teeth and tried to calm down. Just like that you pulled that fucking branch out of his leg, without any anesthetic or at least some liquor to disinfect it!  
"Fuck..." he grumbled and ran his hand over his face, trying to keep his composure. Breathing heavily, he had his leg bandaged and a tight bandage applied over the wound in his chest as well.  
"Pain punishes stupid actions," he heard you say softly. He ignored it, feeling the adrenaline slowly begin to fade. The blood in his veins throbbed, pulsed, and just roared in his ears. What he would do for a sip of bourbon right now!  
"Hey, no- get out!" Jacob watched as two little skunks scurried into the tent, squealing loudly and running around you. You hissed angrily, immediately shooing them outside and watching them play far away from the tent.  
Irritated, the soldier sat up - at least as best he could - and leaned against the old crate beside him. His brows drew together in confusion as he looked at the rich field of flowers in front of the tent. It was a veritable rainbow of colors, shapes, and plants, a lush meadow completely atypical of Montana.  
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...," Jacob murmured softly, his gaze wandering briefly around the tent. It was huge, even seemed a little bigger than Joseph's church. White linen had been stretched tight with strings, there was wooden furniture standing around that looked ancient, and much of it was homemade. Who was the hippie chick? And why had she carried him into her tent? How had she carried him in the first place? He only remembered the rock, the slope and the tree. After that, everything was black.  
"Sorry." You came back into the tent, were unbuttoning your top made of leather. "They're still young. They play a lot."  
Jacob watched as you pulled the garment off your torso, an old linen shirt underneath. You were slightly sweaty, the leather not very breathable in the summer sun. A light breeze blew in from outside, carrying the sweet scent of flowers and the buzz of insects into the tent. Disturbing this dreamlike scene was the stench of blood clinging to Jacob and your hands.  
"Who the hell are you?" He tried to sound as intimidating as possible, but it was an outright failure. His voice was weak, brittle, and he could barely support himself on the crate next to him under his own power. You didn't let yourself be impressed for a second, instead wiping your hands on your top and sighing.  
"If that leg gets infected, you're in trouble," you said calmly, eyeing his shaking muscles. "I'll get you clothes. I'll get medicine. You stay."  
"Like hell I will, where's my radio?" retorted Jacob, trying to sit up - but immediately sinking back to the ground as a huge black bear came up behind you. The animal snorted, licked its muzzle and stared at him out of dark little eyes. With those huge jaws, he could crush Jacob's head just like that and it wouldn't even strain the bear!  
"You stay." you repeated and the bear took a step closer into the tent. "The bear is paying attention."  
Jacob snorted and lowered himself back to the ground, letting you hand him a scratchy blanket from the back corner of the tent. He was cold, but that was solely due to blood loss. And maybe also because there was a huge bear sitting at the entrance drooling - that couldn't be a good sign. As surreal as it all was, he had to be dead and in fucking purgatory.

If you actually wanted to get clothes and medicine, you had to dress like one of the humans. That meant period clothing. Jeans, a shirt, and boots should do just fine. Add to that a cap with the imprint of a local sports federation and the disguise was perfect. Even if you felt really silly in those clothes.  
"Back soon," you said, but more to the bear than to Jacob. You gave the soldier a quick glance over your shoulder and he could swear there was that golden glint in your eyes again. What was going on here? He was confused and his body was just in pain, shaking, and he wanted to tell his brothers that he was in trouble.  
Even the serious, steeled soldier longed for his brothers, wanted to tell them he was still alive and needed help. John had been right, he shouldn't have gone into the mountains alone. And Joseph had encouraged him, told him it was certainly in God's will that he explore the mountains.  
Had Joseph foreseen all this? Was his little brother trying to get rid of him?


	3. I play the game; But to my real shame...

The summer evening was cooler than expected, but that was due to the proximity of the mountains. The air could cool quickly in the evening, even in summer. Still better than roaming Hope County in the sweltering heat.  
"I have women's clothes, too, you know." The older man behind the counter eyed you conspicuously. The little military store was more like an annex to the gas station, but you didn't really care. The main thing was to get clothes for your guest. You should have checked his jacket for size - now you had to guess what would fit Jacob.  
"Do you have any warm clothes?" you asked the salesman, who shrugged his shoulders in irritation and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.  
"In stock." he said defensively, obviously not feeling like going into the next room. You stared at him for a few seconds until he finally sighed and opened the door to the next room. "Don't you dare steal."  
You ignored his threatening index finger he waved around and looked at your selection for Jacob. A shirt, a camouflage jacket, and a pair of work pants. Everything was dark, unobtrusive, and hard to spot in the thicket. Perfect.  
"Parka, gloves, hat and scarf." The salesman came back in and tossed you said clothes on the counter. "What size?"  
"XL." you replied, pulling out a dark parka from the pile. It would come in handy. "Your payment."  
The dollar bills you tossed to him on the table were crumpled, faded, and some had drops of blood on the paper. The old man looked suspiciously at you, but then shook his head and let the cash register ring. He kept the change on principle, but you didn't mind much. You stuffed the items into your shoulder bag and tapped the peak of your cap as a sign of goodbye. You had seen this once in one of those old western movies, but it only confused the clerk even more.  
The bell on the door rang shrilly as you left the little store. At the gas station, several cars had pulled up and were filling up, while a group of three men chatted at one of the pumps. Your watchful eyes scrutinized the men: one in a red shirt, the other two dressed like fine men from wealthy homes. A blue shirt, plus a vest. The other wore a white shirt, black vest and yellow sunglasses on his nose. They were definitely from the South. Alabama? Or Georgia?  
The fine clothing and the crosses hanging around their necks. Religious. Were they Jacob's brothers, for instance? The judge and the prophet, the father, if you remembered correctly. The vision from the day before had already faded a lot, it was more a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach. These men would terrorize and ruin the valley. Again you had to admonish yourself that you had no judgment to pass.  
"... Not since yesterday, no." You listened, picking up something of their conversation as you very leisurely made your way back, ears pricked.

Joseph listened to his little brother only half-heartedly, his attention slowly slipping over to you. The fact that Jacob had gone alone into the mountains also interested him very little. The eldest brother was strong and could take care of himself, apart from being a lone wolf anyway. But John was worried, as a loyal little brother should be.  
"... Not since yesterday, no." He was already not even listening to John talking to Clancy, the driver of the two. Through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses, he looked over at you, but something was wrong. He saw you, a strange woman, but an uneasy feeling came over him, gave him cold goose bumps.  
An aura, like the heat flickering on the streets, surrounded you. For a second he thought it was a migraine attack, but it was not.  
Slowly he turned to you, your eyes met. Joseph narrowed his eyes, unable to believe that the color of yours seemed golden.  
"What the..." he muttered, taking a step toward you, lifting his sunglasses and focusing on you fully. The flicker was gone, and instead you returned his gaze with hostility until you finally turned away and followed the trail behind the gas station building.  
"Joseph, what-" John addressed his older brother, but he was already hurrying after you and stopped in the shadow of the building, staring at the edge of the forest. Disappeared you were, as if you had simply vanished into thin air. A mirage wrapped in divine light.  
"Joe, come on, we have to keep moving." John appeared behind the prophet, who put his sunglasses back on and cleared his throat.  
"You're right." he admitted, taking one last look at the trees in the evening glow. The prophet hesitated. "We should radio Jacob."  
Irritated, John tilted his head slightly.  
"Didn't you say ten minutes ago that wasn't necessary?" he inquired, puzzled by this sudden change of heart on his brother's part. Joseph put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him urgently. No backtalk, that's what that look meant.  
"I've just changed my mind."

The sun was already low when you arrived back in the little valley. The days of summer were long, but the nights were as beautiful as they were short. A deep calm settled over Hope County and the animals took over the woods, if only for a short time.  
As nice as it was to come back home to your camp - the deep, throaty growl of the bear welcomed you. The animal stood at the entrance to your tent, baring its teeth and yowling briefly when one of your cups hit it on the nose.  
"Hey!" Immediately you ran, tossing your shoulder bag into the grass and aiming your taut bow at the inside of the tent. Jacob was leaning against the old crate, his hunting knife in hand and already ready with the next harness to throw.  
"What are you doing?" you snapped at him. The fact that he went after the bear for no reason really enraged you. What had the poor animal done to him?  
"Just keep the cattle away from me," you got a grim reply. That Jacob was irritable from the pain could be explained, but he just seemed hostile to the animal. Humans, so small-minded.  
"I advise you to keep your hands off my animals," you said, lowering your bow. There was no point in provoking him any further, he was barely sane without painkillers. He would get from you the drug you had stolen from the F.A.N.G. station. Animal tranquilizer would put him to sleep properly, just what he needed. His body had been in a permanent state of stress for 12 hours, he really needed to get some shut eye.  
"I have painkillers. And clothes.", you tried to reassure him. "You'll feel better."  
"Fuck your painkiller!" growled Jacob, pulling himself up by the old crate with shaking arms. "I'm out of here."  
"You can't walk." you stated, sending the bear away with a clear nod. "Your leg."  
"Yeah, my fucking leg!" came the impatient reply, and as he tried to put weight on it, it immediately buckled away. Just barely, he caught himself on the edge of the box, squeezing out a pained hiss between his teeth. "If I have to, I'll just crawl back."  
"Unwise." You tossed the bow into the grass and opened the small pocket at your hip. "Then dirt gets into your wounds. They get infected. You die."  
Suspiciously, Jacob watched as you walked into the tent, grabbed the scratchy blanket, and folded it up. You laid it on the ground and courageously reached into your hip pocket. The man in front of you flinched, suspecting an attack, and was about to lunge at you, but you beat him to it. You blew the green-white powder in your hand at him so that he coughed and put his hand in front of his face. The desired effect was immediate: he hesitated, shook his head as if to get rid of an annoying fly, and muttered something unintelligible. He stood leaning against the box, but it could only support him up to his waist. His injured leg did not support the tentative step he dared to take, he faltered so that he fell forward and you caught him. Immediately you laid him on the floor, on the blanket you had placed earlier.  
"Sweet dreams.", you said softly, while he was already completely immersed in sleep. A deep sigh of relief escaping you, you retrieved yet another blanket from your sleeping area and spread it over him. He would be out for at least 10 hours, so you could calmly weigh the situation. After all, he was a key figure in his future, his brother's martyr. What a sad role in a drama that had not been written for you. Another would play the leading role, would really set off this chain of events. It was several years before that person showed up and by then Jacob had to be ready. They all had to be, including you.  
You would look around, soaking up the sight of the colorful nature around you. You would collect seeds and keep them well so that when it was over, everything could start over. You wondered if you could settle some animals here. Your hidden valley was not too big, but it was enough for some species. A thought you really had to pursue.  
A black, wet muzzle pressed against your cheek as you sat down on the grass. The black bear dropped to the ground next to you with a muffled sound, growled demandingly, and pressed its nose further against you. You relented, petting and cuddling the animal extensively as a reward for his patience with Jacob.  
"He's hurt, he's showing his teeth," you tried to apologize for the soldier's behavior. "You remember that, huh?"  
Your warm hands ran through the thick fur until you found the bump on the bear's shoulder. A hunter had shot him when he was a cub and you had found him. The cruelty of humans was a mystery to you, but by now you were no longer looking for answers to questions that led nowhere anyway.  
A snort from the bear and a sigh from you. You leaned into the black, soft fur and closed your eyes. You were so _old_ , you were so _tired_ of humans, and yet you helped him. You would care for him, give him food and drink, medicine and even clothes. When was the last time a man had gotten that kind of attention from you? It had been centuries.  
What was so special about Jacob that you couldn't resist the wishes of the universe? He was just a man, he was just a soldier and a murderer. Others were more deserving of your blessing, but your path had crossed his and now he lay in your tent, wounded and at your mercy.  
You could not bring yourself to pierce his skull with an arrow. Of course you could kill him without batting an eye, but something told you that was the wrong way. It wasn't his way, it wasn't yours, and you couldn't deprive him of the chance to make his sacrifice.


	4. ... you've let me to dream all alone.

In the morning you listened to the first birds in the trees, enjoying the peace and quiet around you. It would all be much nicer if Jacob wasn't constantly coughing, groaning, or sighing heavily. He had slept through the night because of the datura dust, but he had bad dreams. Even without the annoying noises, you could feel him tossing and turning throughout the night. Jacob was a soldier, and judging by the scars on his body, he had seen a lot of bad days. Stab wounds, gunshot wounds, chemical burns and regular burns. His life was hard, he was a tool of the military. Tragic to waste that potential like that for pointless wars. So you began to get the feeling that all the members of the Seed family were nothing more than lost children, searching for their place in life. Was it any different for you?  
The morning dew made the grass in the meadow soft and wet, so you waited for the first clear rays of the summer sun. Then the dew's dampness lifted, giving way to a hearty juicy smell of green - the most beautiful time of the day. Then you went to get something for your guest to eat, if he would touch anything at all.  
Disgruntled, you pulled aside the fabric of his cut trouser leg and examined the wound. The torn skin was red and certainly sensitive, it looked like an inflammation. The antibiotic you had taken from the F.A.N.G. ward might not have worked. Success was not 100% certain outside of a hospital, so the possibility of blood poisoning still existed. The wound needed to be taken care of, but you didn't want to carry him to a doctor. It was important that Jacob stayed with you. For a reason that was not your concern, you had to support and train him. What was the universe always thinking about such things?  
Gently, you put the back of your hand to his forehead, giving a discontented hum. He had a fever. It wasn't very high yet, but that would probably change. Of course, there was a chance that his body could handle the infection on its own and everything would be fine. However, to be on the safe side, you should intervene. You couldn't always rely on fate, as tempting as it was.  
A short, loud whistle and leisurely your friend the black bear staggered out of the thicket near the tent. He stuck his nose into the tent, checked the air, and then snorted indignantly.  
"It's early, I know," you soothed the animal as you pulled Jacob out of the blanket and stood him up. Damn, you might have used too much jimsonweed after all. He was completely out, floating in a mixture of deep sleep and unconsciousness. "We need to get to the creek."  
There was a small, thin stream in the hidden valley. Life was just blooming around it, and you had such a hunch that it was an ancient source of energy. It would facilitate his healing, support him in his struggle for life. Not that a person like Jacob would appreciate such a thing.  
"I know you don't like him," you continued to talk well to the bear who stood stubbornly in front of the tent, blinking reproachfully at you out of his black eyes. You grabbed Jacob, wrapped your arms around his torso, and dragged him through the grass toward your animal friend. "But the odds are he'll die if I don't do something. So don't be like that!"  
The bear yowled softly, threw back its huge head and snorted in denial. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes, then pulled one of your patient's arms over your shoulders and dragged him yourself to the northern part of the valley. Ungrateful bear, but he always came to eat punctually, huh.

Jacob struggled through the fog in his head. Flowers, white flowers everywhere. The smell of sweet blossoms surrounded him, a tingling in his fingertips. Shouldn't his chest hurt, or his left leg? Wasn't he wounded? From what, actually?  
The fall. The tree. The woman.  
It all came back, flooding his brain with thoughts and memories of the last 24 hours. There was a lot of pain, confusion about this valley overgrown with flowers, and on top of that, you, the weird hippie chick with the bear. Was it not a dream after all?  
He felt himself moving. At first he was half carried, half dragged across the ground, then finally he found the strength to take his own steps. The person to his left hesitated briefly, but then allowed him to find his footing on the ground and step himself with his uninjured leg. Jacob exhaled heavily, leaned weight on the stranger's shoulders, and collected himself. The fog was still in his head, but that eased the pain in his body, so he accepted it.  
"It's not far now.", he heard that warm honey voice that had already accompanied him in his dreams from last night. The hippie chick, it ran through his head. What was she up to now?  
Jacob's vision was still blurry, he blinked, trying to get a little more clarity. The flowers under his boots were just colorful splotches of color in the green, the scent only intensifying the effects of the drugs in his body. He felt sick to his stomach.  
"Wait-," was all he could bring himself to say, leaning to the side and throwing up into a pink gorse bush. A little disgusted, you twisted the corners of your mouth, knowing he couldn't help it, yet disgusted.  
"Better?" you asked quietly, and he spat on the ground, wiped his mouth, and nodded. Barely audible, he cursed, but allowed you to help him walk again. His stomach ached, his throat burned, and even through the fog, the pain slowly stood out clearly. His left leg hurt terribly, every heartbeat could be felt in the wound. He knew the wound was infected, he could feel it. The tingling burn under the skin, the painful pulling at the edge of the wound - this was only going to get worse.  
"Where... are you taking- ah! Shit...- me?" brought Jacob out in a scratchy voice. Only now did he realize how thirsty he was. His lips were dry, swallowing difficult. "I need water."  
"Not far now." you repeated yourself, and for a second he enjoyed the warm voice echoing in his head, accompanying his thoughts out of the fog like a beacon. He perceived the soft splashing of water, swallowed against the dryness in his throat and almost stumbled. Gently, your warm hand supported his side, your right arm instantly wrapped around his waist, and briefly Jacob wondered how **_strong_** you were. Navy or Army? Did you even have any military training? Who the hell were you? So many questions and not a single answer in sight.

Jacob barely uttered a meaningful sentence, just a string of muffled words. You shook your head gently - you really overdid it with the datura. He was still dazed from the herbal drugs, tried to talk to you and got only weak mumbling out, empty half-sentences which he gave up in between. At least you had reached the little stream by now.  
The water was lapping peacefully, framed by fragrant meadows of pink and yellow flowers. Bees buzzed busily from one blossom to another, going about their business, not caring at all that you were dragging Jacob through the flowers.  
"It's cold." you warned your injured man as you leaned him against a rock on the shore and pulled from your belt a leather drinking tube. Unscrewing the cap, you pulled the vessel through the clear mountain water and handed it to Jacob. Immediately he began to quench his thirst while you let your eyes wander over the meadow. All that would soon be gone. What a damn shame.  
"Come." You reached out to Jacob, who tossed the drinking tube onto one of the rocks and eyed you suspiciously. He realized he wouldn't get too far without you, so he finally took heart and grabbed your forearm. You gave him the support he needed to join you in the creek, where you pulled him under the water with you. You plunged him into the cool water up to his shoulders, whereupon his senses suddenly became clearer and he clenched his teeth. The water was icy on his skin, uncomfortable and it made his muscles tremble.  
"It will bring your fever down," you said, pulling him closer to you, putting your hands on his shoulders. He was far too preoccupied with the cold to really register your touch. Your right hand ran over the wound on his chest, pausing there for a moment. You concentrated your own power on this point, the little bit of divinity that was left to you. It was not much, but it would help his body a little.  
Your hand traveled down, over his torso to his hip and thigh. Jacob immediately grabbed your wrist, snapped out of his trance, and growled menacingly - not that it would impress you. That touch seemed to intimate him then, as abruptly as he reacted.  
"What are you doing?" His first real sentence since he was awake, you thought, amused, and wriggled your wrist out of his tight grip. He came to his senses, slowly.  
"Helping you."  
"I don't need help!" The fire in his eyes, on the other hand, was very impressive, yet he was so numb from the jimsonweed, the pain, and the cold. You withstood his gaze, but a spark glowed inside you. He was a fighter, he was stubborn and did everything to achieve his goal. Finally something interesting about him, something you really liked!  
"Without help, you'll die." you replied softly, coming a little closer and pressing your hand on the wound in his thigh. Jacob drew in a sharp breath, wincing at the pain. How could your hands be so warm in this cold water?  
" _Be glad I have mercy on you, mortal._ " His blue eyes were fixed on you, and for a second he saw that golden glow flit through your eyes again as you spoke.  
"Who are you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He'd never met anyone like you before, and a feeling in his chest told him you weren't who you said you were. He hesitated, swallowing nervously. "What are you?"  
You couldn't help but smile, feeding your power to the wound in his leg, hoping it would heal quickly with it.  
"Jacob." The way you pronounced his name made him shudder. If he didn't know better, he would be afraid of you. Why did you speak to him as if you'd known him forever? So familiar, so... affectionate. "What do you think I am?"


	5. Too real is the feeling of make believe

"How's the leg?"  
No answer to your question, just a furtive glance out of the corner of my eye and a dark growl. The refreshing water from the stream had lowered Jacob's fever, the wound didn't seem to inflame any further, on the contrary, it seemed to subside. His bad mood, on the other hand, was really unbearable and was not only due to the injuries. Apparently he was just an asshole, you realized. Admittedly, you weren't surprised.  
"You should get some rest. The wounds need to heal." you continued as you picked some grasses from the meadow. He just glared at you, sitting in the tent on one of the blankets, watching you gather wild herbs and grasses. His gaze burned on the back of your head as if he wanted to stare you to death. He was acting childish.  
Ever since you told him what exactly you were - ever since then he stared at you like a cheap con man on the street corner. That's why you refrained from telling people the truth. They got terribly upset about it every time!  
"You need to sleep. It's warm at noon anyway. Sleep helps." you kept talking at him from the tent entrance. If you had to, you'd drug him with jimsonweed again! If only because he was really starting to get on your nerves.  
There was a loud snort from the tent and you turned to him, watching him flop onto his back. Jacob had to be exhausted now that the energy from the stream was speeding up his healing. This effect, however, sucked the strength out of you, for there was nothing without a price to pay. He wanted to get well quickly? No problem, but for that the next few days would be very difficult.

It was pleasant to quietly prepare the herbs for drying without Jacob Seed breathing down your neck. He was an exhausting man, it really took all your patience not to change his fate just by leaving him to his own devices in the forest. You wondered why he was the way he was. You sensed that there were some blockages in him, the inability to come to terms with what had happened. It was not certain, but maybe you could help him. Then he would finally be less hostile. And there was no better time than that of his nap! He had been tossing and turning for twenty minutes, and you could hear the low murmurs and feel his increased pulse rate. Plus, you were just curious about what was going on in his head.

You hadn't done that in a long time - invade dreams. It was uncomfortable, as if your body was being immersed in ice water. On top of that, people's emotions were often so intense that it hurt. As a cosmic entity, you had long ago become numb to feelings. It wasn't that you didn't have any - they were just elusive, far away from you, and not as intense as they were for humans. It was because of the time you spent alive. The older you got, the more jaded you became, too. But in Jacob a storm raged, a flaming inferno which he suppressed with all his strength. It came out at night when he was asleep and couldn't keep the walls up. You found it harder and harder not to judge him.  
"Let's do this..." you murmured, encouraging yourself. Carefully, you put your fingertips to Jaboc's temple, focusing your waning strength on him. The life that slowly seeped out of him. The black that slowly poisoned his soul and pulled him into darkness. You had to be careful not to drown in it and ultimately lose yourself in a human being. Quite a lot could go wrong with your plan.

  
**It hurts. My mouth tastes of blood, of iron. I am afraid. Where am I?**

  
When you opened your eyes, the light coming in through the window blinded you. You tried to lift your arms, but ropes held you down on an old chair. The fibers cut into your skin, but that didn't matter right now. There was someone else in the room with you, a man with a knife. You eyed him from top to bottom. A soldier, in uniform, but not an American. So he was not a friend. His aura was intense and threatening, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.   
The heat of the Iraqi desert penetrated the room even through the closed window, and you spat on the floor - a sickening mixture of saliva and blood. Your mouth was so dry it was hard to swallow. You would give a lot for a sip of water.  
The man addressed you, in a domineering tone. You didn't know the language, you only understood single words. Soldier, desert, the formulation of a question. Judging by the knife in his hand, it was not a nice request, but a demand to answer him. But how could you answer when you didn't even understand the question?  
"I don't know what you're talking about," you muttered in a broken voice. You heard the man growl deeply. So he didn't like back talk, huh? "But I'm not going to do shit and tell you anything."  
The man saw your firm look, saw that you didn't want to comply. Scornfully, he spat on the ground, reached to his belt and pulled out a water bottle. It was a piece of military equipment, you had seen this before - in the IAF. This man was an Iraqi soldier. A torturer? Probably. A man who wanted information and got it at any cost. You were in big trouble.  
The man took a sip of water, never taking his eyes off you. He weighed you up, looked at you carefully and searched for weak points. You, on the other hand, returned his gaze with all your willpower, trying not to blink. Strength was all you had at that moment. It was all you had to counter this man. A crumbling strength, a wall that gave way brick by brick and collapsed.   
You felt naked, inferior and weak. Your pulse raced and your breathing was shallow - the walls were closing in. You were seized by a shrill panic, knowing what was coming. It was not the pain that frightened you, but the fact that you would tell him everything he wanted to know. You were betraying your country, your comrades, and everything you had believed in for the past few years. Simply because you were not strong enough. Were you really a soldier? How the hell could you call yourself a soldier when you would do anything to save your own life?

_What is your life worth to you? What is a single life worth?_

"Start already, asshole," you rumbled, clenching your jaws. The man in front of you snorted - he understood you, apparently - and he nodded slightly, more to himself. It was time to begin his work. You closed your eyes and put your head on the back of your neck, in pure anticipation of the pain to come.

_You're going to make a sacrifice._

With a yelp, you jerked back, falling backwards and landing on your butt. The air in the tent became heavy from the midday sun, stuffy in your lungs, and for a moment you still had the taste of blood in your mouth. Your forearms ached, right where the shackles had cut into your flesh. Your breathing was hectic, your lungs were burning and it took you a moment to come to your senses. Images coursed through your mind, a mixture of dark faintness, a screaming pain and the smell of burning flesh. Chemicals on your skin and deep cuts in your torso. What a horrible dream, a horrible reminder of things that had really happened.  
Jacob groaned, sat up and grabbed his forehead. He seemed confused, as if jolted out of a deep sleep, and his blue eyes stared at you for a moment.  
"What the hell did you just do!"  
You hesitated, straightening up a little.  
"I was looking for answers," you finally replied. For a moment Jacob seemed to ponder your answer, taking a little while to try to understand it. Thoughts raced in his mind as well, images flitting through his consciousness, pulling him into a memory that had been many years ago.  
"I was in Iraq-" he rumbled in a brittle voice, clutching his head again. "In that room, and that guy-. And you were there too, t-you were in my head, I-" His eyes jerked up to you, "You were in my head."  
Slowly, hesitantly, you nodded.  
As you had feared, this whole thing was a really bad idea.


End file.
